


Green Thumb

by blackchaps



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Genderfluid Character, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:49:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25159528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackchaps/pseuds/blackchaps
Summary: Grow better.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This little nugget wouldn't stop pecking at me. I apologize. Also, I have read exactly one other Good Omens fic, so if someone has done this, please tell me so I can delete it! Thank you!

"GROW BETTER!"

Crowley's howl echoed throughout his apartment and all the plants within a city block trembled. The ones who could tried to use their roots to pull themselves further away. The plants trapped in pots shook for hours. They lived in hell, or at least a tad too close for comfort.

***

"Um, hey."

Aziraphale controlled his instant sigh. He'd had no intention of opening the shop today, but it had rained. Of course, this was London, and he was a firm believer that people needed places to dry off and perhaps buy a book on those days. However, he'd had no intention of actually speaking with any of his customers. He was being polite, that was all. "Oh, hello?"

The young lady looked everywhere but at him, and then she pointed to the far window. "That plant needs water," she whispered.

"I'm sorry, dear, but I don't own any plants." Aziraphale was sure of that. He'd know if he did, and he didn't, none whatsoever.

The young lady bolted for the door and was gone, still clutching a rather nice book by C.S. Lewis, signed, naturally, but Aziraphale had faith she'd return and pay for it later.

"Plants. Ridiculous." It wasn't that he didn't like plants. He did. But dirt and water had no business in a book shop. That was just asking for trouble. He straightened his bow tie, determined not to think about it, and then realized that the young lady had no reason to lie. In fact, she'd seemed rather lovely, and anyone who read C.S. Lewis couldn't be bad. Intrigued, he wandered the way she'd pointed, investigating nooks and crannies and smiling at a few old friends before he found his windowsill.

A small plant, looking a bit forlorn, why, it even had a hole in one of its leaves, sat in the dim light, as if asking for a bit of water. The pot was clearly inadequate, and he sighed. "Where did you come from?"

The plant didn't answer. He stroked a gentle finger down the leaf, healing the small hole. "Well, I suppose I own a plant now. Let's get you some water."

After one incident with too much water, the books were grateful when Aziraphale took the plant to his desk. He supposed there was light enough there, and he did like the sprightly little fellow. The bell at the door was easily ignored since he'd just made himself a lovely spot of tea.

Hours later, he found himself near the cash register and spotted the pile of bills, and if he wasn't mistaken, it was the exact amount the young lady owed him. He'd known she was a good sort, and he stuffed the money away for the poor box at the church later. Satisfied, he almost missed the small note. Lifting it up, he frowned. "The plant on the front stoop has been over-watered." He stared at the note, wondering if it would disappear. "I don't have plants on the front stoop."

In fact, he was fairly sure that it against city ordinances to have plants in front of one's business. Still frowning, which had lasted far too long, he marched outside and nearly bumped into a good-sized plant, sad and droopy, that was planted firmly in front of one of his doors. Only by sheer luck had he not banged the door into it. He stared at it for the longest time and then edged closer to get a good sniff. There was a slight odor of brimstone about it.

"What in the hell is going on here?" he said softly.

The plant seemed to tremble, leaves drooping further. "Oh, we'll have none of that."

Aziraphale used a tiny miracle to move the plant near the back window. The plant was far too large to put on his desk, of that he was certain. He flipped his sign to closed, thoroughly put out with the day, and went back to stand in front of it. "Oh, dear. You are pathetic." He gently waved his hand over the pot and let his love pour over it.

***


	2. Chapter 2

***

All things being considered, the fact that he'd forgotten to mention the plants to Crowley was expected. After all, there'd been crepes, and it'd been very distracting, as had the wine afterwards. It wasn't his fault, not really, and he was very certain after all that Crowley had nothing to do with the mysterious plants.

Crowley's plants, case in point, were the finest in London, and they never looked miserable or had holes in them, so something else was afoot. In any case, it was far too late as Crowley had gone off to do some nonsense. He'd been vague. Aziraphale thought it was perhaps best he didn't know the details. The devil was in the details, after all. The little plant on his desk seemed to agree with that, and his leaves were looking quite fresh today.

The ringing at the door reminded Aziraphale that the shop was technically open, even if it were a sunny day, and they were rare, so people should be at the park. He might go later and visit the ducks and that lovely pair of swans. He'd grown quite fond of them. He only went up front to flip the sign, and that's when he saw it, sitting right in the middle of the floor. A young lady was leaned over it, a gentle hand on the horrible leaves.

"My dear, why are you leaving plants in my shop?" Aziraphale really wanted to know, before he officially became a nursery, and that would never do.

"I'm not!" She straightened up and looked indignant. "I just... like it here. It's... safe, you know?"

"Certainly." Aziraphale did have his regulars, though this lady was younger by far. "Shouldn't you be out skateboarding or causing mischief?"

"I like to read." She looked a trifle indignant. "If you didn't have that dumb bell, you wouldn't even know I was here."

Astonished, Aziraphale had to nip that idea in the bud. "Shops have bells. I believe it's in the rules. Now, take your plant home when you leave." Then he thought from the look in her eyes that he'd been too harsh. "Not that you have to leave right away. Though I'm surprised you're finished with the C.S. Lewis book."

She swallowed hard and looked at the door. "I need a job."

Aziraphale stared at her, not sure how to respond to that. Humans could be so opaqued at times. "I don't carry the newspapers, or perhaps there's a hiring board nearby?"

"I want to work here. You don't have a shop assistant. I could water the plants? Sell books?" She was very earnest.

"Sell books?" Aziraphale was appalled. "My dear, this isn't that sort of shop."

"I get it." She scooped up the plant and fled. He followed her to the door, flipped the sign, and sighed. Crowley was really much better at that sort of thing.


	3. Chapter 3

***

The ducks swam eager circles, certain that bread was on offer. Aziraphale rummaged in his pockets, bread crumbs appearing as needed, and if the ducks' faces were any indication, there was a great need. He didn't make them wait, tossing it out steadily until everyone had a snack or two.

"Hello, Angel."

"Crowley," Aziraphale sighed, so happy to see him. He'd sensed someone, of course, but after that affair with Gabriel, it paid to be careful. They stood side by side, each on the proper side because the forces of good and evil balanced that way. It felt... right, and he drew a deep breath of happiness. "I had the strangest encounter yesterday."

"Do tell." Crowley, of course, didn't have any crumbs, and the ducks glared at him quite fiercely. As a snake, he was unaffected.

Aziraphale took it upon himself to make up the lack. "This young lady, who has been rather kind, after she absconded with my signed C.S. Lewis, thinks I need someone to work in my bookshop."

"Namely her?"

"Yes." Aziraphale was still deeply confused. "She seemed quite put out that I didn't agree. But! I'm open to the possibly that it was entirely my fault."

"Of course you are." Crowley frowned. "I'm not sure you sell enough books to warrant help."

"My point exactly!" Aziraphale had known Crowley would see to the heart of the matter. "But she has been rather helpful with my recent flora infestation."

"Nasty buggers." Crowley rocked back and forth just a bit. "Who's looking after your shop now?"

Blinking rapidly, Aziraphale turned from the ducks to stare up at Crowley, who was always so very clever. "Well, I suppose God?" He knew he sounded unsure.

"She's been a mite busy lately. Perhaps you should hire the young lady." Crowley leaned close to Aziraphale's ear. "Then we could take a long ride in the countryside, see the sights, sample the wines."

"Oh, dear." Aziraphale grew a little light-headed at the mere idea of riding in Crowley's car, but the temptation of wine was strong, indeed. "I'm sure I've ruined it. She'll never return, now that I've said so many wrong things."

"Give it time, Angel." Crowley hooked his thumb at the ice cream cart, and they went together. What a simply marvelous day, and Aziraphale was sure Crowley was right. He usually was.

***


	4. Chapter 4

***

Every time the bell gave a tinkle, Aziraphale interrupted himself and went to the door, hoping to see the young lady, just to explain, and perhaps see how the plant she'd taken was doing. His hopes were dashed each time, and he was beginning to to think he'd have to ask Crowley for more advice.

In the midst of all this chaos, which Aziraphale highly disapproved of, another plant appeared in the customer's restroom, perching on the back of the toilet with its heavy leaves drooping. Aziraphale frowned at it, hoping it would discorporate, but it stayed where it was, stubbornly looking listless. He picked it up and marched toward the back alley, determined to at least put this one outside. Pushing open his back door, he could only stare. There were two more plants on the rubbish bin.

"That is quite enough! No more plants!" he yelled at the sky.

A rustling made him take a small step back and peer deeper into the shadows. "Hello?"

"Crap." And the young lady shuffled out behind a small jutting of bricks, book tucked under her arm. "I'm sorry, okay! My parents threw me out, and I had nowhere else to go."

"Yes, but why are you bringing your plants. Surely your parents wanted them?" Aziraphale was completely confused.

The door behind him opened and shut, and he felt him before he turned. "Crowley."

"Angel, why are you hanging out back here in the rubbish?"

"Plants! Plants!" Aziraphale thought perhaps for a moment he'd gone slightly cuckoo. "There was one in the loo!"

"Oh." Crowley had a strange look on his face. "Well, that explains one small thing. Is this your new employee? Made him take out the rubbish already?"

"I don't work here."

"Yes, you do, and your first job is to find homes for all these plants!" Aziraphale handed her the newest pot. "Help me, please."

"Okay, I guess." She blushed. "My name is David."

"Good sturdy name. I like it." Aziraphale turned back around, feeling a bit like a pinwheel. "Wait." He moved to Crowley and took a sniff, catching the whiff of brimstone that was also on the plants. "Crowley, tell me about the one small thing."

"Okay, fine! They're my plants! The other plants have expectations, and I couldn't just murder them, not plants, for Satan's sake." Crowley looked extremely discomforted. "I knew you'd heal them!"

"Crowley, you could've just asked. I'd have said no, but that's neither here nor there, as I do not run a flower shop!" Aziraphale pulled his vest down, completely flummoxed. "In the future, speak to my employee before you drop off any more plants!"

"I could do that," Crowley said. "Maybe we should pop inside. I think David could use a spot of tea." He shuffled his feet. "He could stay at my place tonight. I'll show him the plants."

"David, take a few back with you." Aziraphale had had quite enough of this. He marched back into his shop and put on the teapot. "Plants, my lord."

"Angel, it was an accident. I was sending them somewhere safe. I didn't specify." Crowley was right behind him, head almost drooping on Aziraphale's shoulder. "You like plants."

Aziraphale had never been able to resist that. He patted Crowley's cheek. "We'll have tea and discuss it. Perhaps order in some food for our new shop assistant."

"Ours?" Crowley paused a moment. "Definitely, ours. I've needed one."

"You certainly have, leaving your plants strewn everywhere." Aziraphale was keeping the one on his desk, however. "You should pop down to the bakery, Crowley."

Crowley lowered his sunglasses, eyes dilating. "That sounds fair."

"I thought it might." Aziraphale watched him slink out the door. "I guess I should be thanking the Lord he didn't send me an apple tree," he muttered.

the end

***


End file.
